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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30060360">Duvet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somnacinn/pseuds/Pasiv'>Pasiv (Somnacinn)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>7 hour trip, Airplanes, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Clay | Dream is Bad at Feelings (Video Blogging RPF), Crying, Don’t worry this is a happy ending, Dream regrets, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings Realization, George is hearbroken, How Do I Use Tags, I wrote this cause im bored, M/M, No beta we die like wilbur blowing up manburg, Okay i shouldn’t use tags like this, but they love each other - Freeform, i have an upcoming test</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:15:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,510</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30060360</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somnacinn/pseuds/Pasiv</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“What we had, it was something else entirely wasn’t it?”</p><p>It’s three years since the breakup. They had parted ways, Dream continuing his career as a gaming youtuber, and George establishing a position as a software developer. It’s almost winter when George takes a plane on a business trip, only to bump into someone he never expected to see. Then he is bombarded with memories and unfinished feelings from the past. </p><p>This is about falling out of love, falling in love again, and growing up.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Duvet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If dream and george are uncomfortable with this, it’ll be taken down immediately!<br/>Also, I promise this will be a happy ending. Because life should!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His shoulder was soaked, leaving grey blotches to the charcoal wool. Wrapping himself up, george hurriedly walked towards the door. The glass door reflected his ruffled state, windblown hair swept to the sides. Lights reflected of the surface, families waving out of car windows. So many voices all merging into one. George hesitantly picked up his suitcase. His footsteps echoed the marble ground of the terminal.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>[Flight 421, bound to JFK...]</em>
</p><p> </p><p>After sending off his luggage, george slumped down in a seat in front of the boarding gate. There was 30 minutes left before takeoff. His coat was still a little wet. He took it off, shivering from the chill air. The weather outside was worsening. Dark clouds covered the sky. It rained harder.</p><p>Of course it was just a typical weather in UK, but it had been a long day. Rampaging through random codes that never seemed to work, and getting screamed at by the director -not the best thing to happen to anyone. He rumpled his hair in frustration. Several furtive glances were thrown his way as he loosened his tie. Most of them were hesitant, some a little tempting. This was something that happened regularly now that he rised through the ranks. His posture became more lean, fit tightly into slim vests and expensive suits. His hair was slicked back in gel- he hated that look. But it made him feel safer, cled in sharp suits. It felt like an armor- hiding whatever he was inside.</p><p>The remnants of his day ragged him down. He could have overlooked the new project, but he decided not to. Instead, he whipped out his phone from his pocket.</p><p>32 new notices popped up. Several messages from his mom-<em>honey, are you eating well? Text us when you land-</em>, some from his friends checking in on him not having heard for so long(he barely had time to contact anyone), one long message from his senior listing works to get done on the business trip. Some work notices, news letters, and mails— than something appeared from the bottom. <em>A twitter alarm</em>. How had it gotten there? He had turned off every alarm on that app. He hadn’t even opened it for as long as he could remember. He almost forgot it was still there on his phone.</p><p> </p><p>Frowning, he tapped on it. The screen immediately turned into blue, than into a post showing a picture of three block figures standing by the sunset. It was taken a long time ago, when they were just starting streaming-they were playing along by the shore when dream urged them to come and pose. He could remember how he was laughing at some stupid joke sapnap had made. 5 hours difference and the fact that they were literally living across the ocean didn’t stop them from gauging together. And they had taken that screenshot. </p><p><em>Will we remember this day in the future? </em>He had asked. </p><p><em>Awww, are you sentimental? </em>Sapnap cooed, mocking. </p><p><em>Hey! </em>George moved his key in attempt to hit. Dream’s voice softly chuckled in their joined voice call.</p><p><em>I’ll probably remember it. But don’t worry if you forget. There’ll be a thousand more times to take a picture, and hang around like</em> this. There wasn’t. </p><p>A little after, dream blew up. They gained attention rapidly. It was an amazing thing to have fans. All the love they were getting were insane. Everything they said or did trended. They had to continuously come up with new ideas. Most of the time was spent on editing videos, coming up with things, and preparing. More people joined their group. It was fun. They would still bicker and talk, but they would never hop on a server, mindlessly exploring, talking in short syllables reluctant to hang up.</p><p> </p><p>And looking back at the post, he realized he was tagged. Dream had tagged him. Of course, that explained everything. The only notice he didn’t turn off were dream’s. Although he had turned off everything else after parting, he had still left the tag. It hand’t occured to him that he would ever get tagged again, so it didn’t hurt to leave it open.</p><p>Now he was staring down at his phone in disbelief. <em>Posted 3hours ago. </em>So dream had tagged him. The post had nothing else. Just the photo. But the comments were spammed with crying emojis, and speculations. As he scrolled down the comments, he was suprised to find the calmer atmosphere, most fans reminiscing the times. The majority of the fans appeared to be in their 20s, students, workers, everyone had aged, grown up but still there to remember together. He felt a sharp pang of pain in his heart.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>[Flight 404, bound to... We are now inviting those passengers with small children, and any passengers ... Please have your boarding pass and identification ready...]</em>
</p><p> </p><p>But this was not the time. Too many emotions, too much memory. <em>I’’ll deal with this later. </em>George bit his lips, closing the screen. The sound of rain tapping loudly against the glass pane mumbled into a soft blur as people shuffled to the line. Putting the now dried coat on, he carried his feet towards the boarding gate. </p><p>He caught a glimpse of himself reflecting off a metal door frame. A brown pair of eyes stared back at him. If someone had told him back then what he would look like in the future, he would’ve laughed it off. How far had he changed- how much everything had changed.</p><p> </p><p>“Passport, sir?” He handed over his passport for the attendance to examine. As soon as he got it back, he walked down the passage. Rain was drumming against the walls. He was looking down, away from the rain when he was stopped in track by a huge wall. Not a wall, a broad shouldered stranger.</p><p>”Sorry, sorry. You okay? I didn’t see—.” The man gabbled. George shook his hand, swooping down to pick up his suitcase.</p><p>”No, It’s perfectly fine. Don’t worry.” He said, smile slightly tinging off his voice. The man’s voice somehow reminded him of dream. He should probably stop thinking about him, because when he did, everything reminded him of dream.</p><p>“You sure? I heard I’m a painful person to bump into, is there anything—.” The voice halted in mid sentence. George, wondering why, turned his head up in attempt to assure no harm done. </p><p>Then his mind went blank.</p><p>Two yellow eyes were staring down at him. He knew they were supposed to be green, but in the lighting, they shimmered like gold. That’s how it always looked to him. Something gold, shining. A shaky breath escaped his mouth.</p><p>“...Dream?” The man-dream nodded. A crooked grin formed in his mouth.</p><p>“George. I...” Dream stuttered to a stop, than wrinkling his eyes into a familiar smile.</p><p>“Hello, george.”</p><p>For a second, he forgot to breathe. The gentle timber gliding down his ear. It felt so comfortable, like being at home on a warm afternoon. All he wanted was to collapse into a pile of dust.</p><p> </p><p>“Sir, are you boarding?” The flight attendant’s voice brought him back to his senses. He nodded and looked back at dream, who was swept away among the passengers to another entrance.</p><p>”George, I’ll text you— later, I promise!” He waved his hand, visible over others, as he disappeared out of sight. George breathed out. Ignoring the rampant beatings of his heart, he walked past the door into the cabin. So dream is here on the plane, on a same flight with him. He had only seen him for a few seconds. But how his face crinkled into a smile, how he looked more broader with weight— the image of dream lay fixated in his mind.</p><p>And he had promised to text him— When was the last time they had texted? He knew he wasn’t ready. Not ready to face him. That meant bringing up all the underlying feelings he had desperately enclosed and hided away for years. He could just hop off as soon as they landed, not turning back once. George slid his suitcase next to the chair. The window lay open. He considered closing it before shaking that thought off. He would have to open them anyways. He slid his eyes shut. A soft hum sounded from his left.</p><p>Dream was standing there, jacket crossed over his shoulder, one hand holding the ticket up awkwardly.</p><p>“Apparently my seat is next to you, I guess.”</p><p>”Oh.” George replied. Than it hit him. ”<em>Oh.”</em></p><p>”Yeah... I could change places if you want to, there’s a couple of empty sits here anyway and this is the business seat so they’ll probably let me.”</p><p>“No, no. Don’t. I’m fine, I mean, It’s okay. Sit.” George winced at how bad that sounded. But dream didn’t seem to mind it. His goofy grin was back on as he slumbered down next to him.</p><p>A couple of small dings, and the flight picked up speed. While george kept his stare on the window, dream fidgeted in silence. Soft sounds of mechanics hummed. The plane took of into the dark. Through the windows, the city glowed in gold. Flying into the entrancing, tranquil night.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Fights comes and goes like an ebb tide.</p><p>“I can’t believe you’re stressed about this. Dream, you’re popular. Of course people will say whatever they wish to say. But they care for you—.”</p><p>“Stressed? You think I’m stressed because I think they’re my fans? Trust me, I know.. I know. But knowing doesn’t compensate my feelings. How convenient is it to say that everyone <em>cares</em> for you.” George winced. It was pain hearing dream in a state like this. A state which seemed to come more often nowadays. He held his phone up to his ear.</p><p>“Dream, listen—.”</p><p>“Well you’re not the one who gets spammed with hate on everything they say. I never did anything to deserve that, and certainly no-one deserves any shit like that. <em>Everything</em> I say is amplified, mocked at. And you talk about <em>caring...”</em></p><p>”Because they <em>do</em> care. Listen, Dream. I know you’re upset, but those people are just haters. You’ve got to understand that, There are so many more fans supporting you. Stop looking at hateful things. It’s only going to hurt you.”</p><p>“I look, because it’s there! What’s the first thing that pops up when I turn anything on? Random people pouring out hate at me like I should be hated. And there are thousands and thousands of them! It’s overwhelming. This morning, this morning someone sent me a death threat—.” He halts in mid-sentence.</p><p>“Never mind, you shouldn’t—, you don’t know—.”</p><p>”Oh so now it’s about knowing?” George slides his hands across his hair in annoyance. Fights like this were consuming. There was no output.</p><p>“Dream. As fun as this job is, there’s always a bad side to everything. Sometimes people just attack with no reason. It’s the downturn of going public.” He can hear dream puff through the line. Taking the phone to his left hand, george pushes the curtain aside. It’s midnight. His bed light emits a cold ray of silver. </p><p>“But it’s too much, sometimes.” Dream replies after a long silence. His voice is now quiet. George feels relief as he looks outside the window.</p><p>“That’s perfectly normal. Get some sleep, go see a doctor if you need to. And you can talk to me, of course. You’ll always have me.” His voice is soft. Dream lets out a sigh.</p><p>“Thanks, george. And I’m sorry... I don’t know what’s getting into me. I shouldn’t have yelled like that.”</p><p>“Hey, no need to thank me. I’m always here for you.” <em>Because I love you. </em>He is tempted to say. But all that comes out of his mouth is simple regards.</p><p>“Thank you. I feel much better. I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah? Sorry for keeping you up late.”</p><p>“Goodnight, dream.”</p><p>“Goodnight to <em>you</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Other times it’s not as pretty. They’re in a middle of a conversation when the subject is brought up.</p><p>“Guys, about that trip... I’m not sure if it’s safe for us to meet yet.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” George could almost feel his frustration melting into his words. Dream answers warily.</p><p>“It’s... too revealing. What if someone takes a picture of us? There’s always a chance like that to happen.”</p><p>“Dude, but we’ve been waiting for this the whole fucking month!” Sapnap replies. “I’m sure our fans will delete it if we say we’re uncomfortable with it.”</p><p>“Not everyone.” Dream mumbles. “I’m trying to protect you.”</p><p>“Come on now. So we get a few picture taken. But it’s just us! Nothings going to harm us.” At that, george nods.</p><p>“Dream. We’re going to be okay. I want to see you guys. It’s been so long.” There is a heated silence.</p><p>“Don’t you want to meet me?”</p><p>”Of course I do. Why’d you think I wouldn’t?”</p><p>“Because it’s clear you’re avoiding me. Look, we’re your best friends! We’ll make sure everything’s fine.”</p><p>“That’s the point. You’re my closest friends, and I can’t afford to get you in trouble.” He sounds resolute. “This conversation’s over.” The call ends. George slumps down in defeat, holding his phone in disbelief.</p><p>It takes over a year for them to meet up.</p><p> </p><p>He’s sitting on a couch in dream’s house when they start dating. His feet dangle from the end as he types up some codes in his laptop. It’s purely domestic, and george wonders how he had fit in so well in this routine. There’s a few tinkering from the kitchen. A few moments after, dream appears holding two cups of cocoa. George waves his hand and grins.</p><p>“Turn it over, dreamy boy.” That earns a few chuckles from dream. He hands george the cup. For a moment, their fingers meet, and george is greeted with a warm stare. <em>It’s golden. </em>George mindlessly thinks. His eyes emit a soft radiant light, full of fondness. George freezes, unable to move.</p><p>“George.” Dream starts. </p><p>“Hmm?” He replies. Red lights dance around dream’s skin.</p><p>“I love you.” George smiles. He’s sure his heartbeat is faster than a whole steam engine.</p><p>“I love you, too.” Dream lets out a shaky sigh.</p><p>“Should we...”</p><p>“Yes, yes—.” The words come out a little breathless, hands intertwining tight as he leans forward and places his mouth on the other’s. And the world around them erupts into fireworks.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“You wear glasses.” George looked up startled, finding the taller gazing at him. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You’re wearing glasses. I never saw you wearing it.” Dream inquired. George took off his glasses, metal linings glistening in artificial lighting.</p><p>“It’s only for work. I don’t normally keep it on.” Dream mouthed a small <em>Oh. </em>George nodded, turning his attention back to the screen in front of him. Honestly, he didn’t know what to do, say. They fall into silence again. Outside the window, the city is long gone. The corridor lights have gone off, too.</p><p><em>So it’s true that nothing gold can stay.</em> George laughs bitterly. But that’s the way how things are.</p>
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